


Two Mics Fame

by Jefferson



Category: Simon & Garfunkel
Genre: Fluff, M/M, it cute, they young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jefferson/pseuds/Jefferson
Summary: Paul and Art don't have to share mics anymore, but they do have to share a hotel room : )





	Two Mics Fame

“Can you believe that, all this time, all we had to do was ask for a second mic?

Paul pulled a white T over his head while Art brushed his teeth in the bathroom. They were getting used to sharing a hotel room with each other on nights on the road. Art spat into the sink.

“That’s what happens when you get famous, Paul. They let you have as many mics as you want.”

Paul rolled his eyes, but secretly hoped that they’d never get so famous they didn’t get to share a hotel room anymore. He walked into the bathroom as Art walked out, trading places.

“We’re not that famous yet, Artie. But we’re definitely going places. You notice that even old people are coming to our gigs? I’m talking people our parents’ age.”

Art stood at the foot of his single bed and took of his jeans. He stood in his underwear with his hands on his hips.

“That’s because they are sophisticated enough to recognize talent when they hear it. The rest of the audience is there for our sex appeal.”

A hand towel flew across the room and hit Art square in the face. Paul giggled from the bathroom doorway.

“Sex appeal! Who do you think we are, Artie?”

Art pulled the towel from his face, and held it in front of him between his finger and thumb.

“You could have at least thrown a clean towel.”

Art was too aware of the intimacy that the small room offered to reassure Paul of the sex appeal he saw in him every time they performed on stage. Paul had sex appeal off stage, too. He had it right now, leaning on the doorframe.

“Yeah, yeah. Put your pants on.”

Paul turned on the sink and washed his face. Art threw the towel back at him, but missed. Paul felt it land at his feet, entertained by Art’s attempt at retaliation.

When Paul finished in the bathroom and turned off the light, he saw that Art had already turned off the bedroom light already. It was dark, and Paul’s eyes weren’t adjusting fast enough to let him see as he stumbled towards the single bed on his side of the room.

“You could have waited for me to get settled before turning off the lights, Artie.”

Paul felt for his mattress.

“That wouldn’t have been as fun.”

A pillow hit Paul in the back of the head, and he let out a laugh.

“It’s not a fair fight if I can’t see!” Paul felt around for his own pillow, but Art had already taken it. Art flung it across the room, hitting Paul in the back, then snuck towards Paul with a second pillow in hand in silence.

“Artie! You took all my ammunition!” Paul laughed in exasperation, and picked up his pillow from the floor, preparing himself for another attack. His eyes began to adjust to the dark just in time to see Art pounce on him.

Art whacked Paul across the chest, knocking him onto the bed. Paul swung back with his own pillow, and Art laughed when it made contact with his hip. Paul raised his arms in defeat as Art prepared another attack.

“I surrender! You win!” Paul giggled as the last pillow fell on his face.

Art laughed.

“Stick to song writing, Paul. You’re no match for me when it comes to pillow fights.”

Art stepped over to his own bed and pulled back the covers.

“I got you good with that towel, though.” Paul got into his bed and pulled the covers up to his ears. He turned onto his side to face Art’s bed.

Art lay on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“That was a lucky shot. Your aim isn’t normally that good.”

“Whatever you say, Artie. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Paul.”

The two lay in their separate beds. The sound of street traffic hummed its way into their room from the open window. Paul closed his eyes and curled up into a ball on his side. I don’t know what Art was on about, Paul thought. I’m too small to have sex appeal. Art, on the other hand, has quite a bit. A fire truck wailed in the distance.

“Hey Paul?”

Paul didn’t open his eyes to answer.

“Yeah Art?”

“Are you asleep?”

Paul huffed and smiled.

“What do you think?”

Paul heard the sheets of Art’s bed rustle, then soft footsteps patter over to his side of the room. He felt Art lift the blankets on his bed and slide in beside him.

“What are you doing, Artie?”

“I got lonely.”

Paul smiled, but kept his back turned to his friend.

Art lay on his side, facing Paul, and put his head next to Paul’s on the pillow. He was careful not to touch Paul--he didn’t want to spook him.

Paul could feel Art’s tense rigidity in the bed next to him. He would never be able to sleep knowing that Art was an inch from falling off the edge and keeping his limbs army straight.

“Oh, come here.”

Art smiled and folded himself along the curve of Paul’s spine. He reached his arm around Paul’s waste and rested his hand on the fabric at Paul’s chest. He let his nose sit in the crook of Paul’s neck. Paul could feel Art breathing him in.

“Better now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The two relaxed into one another, comforted by the warmth and affection that radiated between them.

“Paul?”

Paul sighed, content and sleepy.

“What, Artie?”

Art paused for a moment. He enjoyed being able to feel Paul’s words rumble through the both of them.

“Do you think that, maybe next time, we can ask for a bigger bed?”

Paul chuckled. Art liked the way that felt, too.

“Yeah, sure we can. We’re famous enough for a bigger bed.” 

Art smiled into Paul’s neck.

“Good. Maybe it’ll have more pillows to hit you with.”

FIN

 


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